


The Fallen Way

by DecomposingOwl



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Crossover, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecomposingOwl/pseuds/DecomposingOwl
Summary: After the events of season two of The Mandalorian, Din struggles with the loss of Grogu and with Bo-Katan's obsession to retake Mandalore.  Upon returning to Nevarro, Marshal Cara Dune asks Mando to stay in order to help her, Greef Karga, and the New Republic build a better tomorrow for the planet.  Conflicted about what it means to be a true Mandalorian, Din decides to stay on Nevarro and provide whatever help he can.  Enter Greez Dritus, BD-1, and Avnalah Isadole Bray; ex-scrappers hired by Greef Karga to take charge of the settlement's derelict soup kitchen.  However, after enlisting BD-1's and Avnalah's help on a dangerous mission assigned by Marshal Dune, Din quickly realizes that this group of would-be chefs aren't exactly who they appear to be.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Bygones and Bogworms

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface this by saying that as far as Star Wars lore goes, I am only familiar with the first six movies, The Mandalorian, and Fallen Order. I've done a fair bit of research using Wookieepedia, but I don't have a lot of knowledge outside of that. So, if I refer to something that is inconsistent with canon, please let me know. One, I can learn more about what I missed and maybe make a correction. Or two, we can consider this fiction AU. 
> 
> If you have anything to say, let me know in the comments. I always appreciate the feedback!

Hyperspace was always a quiet place, and so were the ships that plundered their way through it. The Mantis was no exception; it was an old ship but a good ship. Maybe there were a few loose knobs and some burnt out indicators, and maybe there was an insufferable creaking underneath that one panel in the dining area every time you walked over it, but it had been the damnest, finest ship Greez Dritus ever had the pleasure of piloting. The Mantis was a home when nowhere else has been— a place for good rest, food, and company. As Av would always say, it was a ship full of echoes.

While the relaxing glow of stars and planets passed by the Mantis’s cockpit viewport, Greez comfortably sighed, leaning back in the pilot’s chair.

BD-1, who was parked in his usual spot atop the panel in front of the co-pilot’s seat, chirped his own sigh in response, slanting his rectangular head and staring at Greez with emotionlessly beady eyes. But despite BD’s blank expression, Greez knew all too well that the little droid was concerned when it came to the third member of their peculiar family. 

Through his prickly white beard, Greez flashed a weak smile at the woman currently occupying the co-pilot’s seat. “Gotta love hyperspace,” he said, “Ain’t nothing as smooth as it.”

Beeping in agreement, BD also turned his head to Av.

Unintentionally ignoring them, Av gripped a clump of her flaxen, shoulder-length hair, rubbing at the remnants of the Orran mud that stubbornly refused to wash out. Not only that, her black jacket and Cal’s yellow and brown poncho that she wore atop it were still splattered in dirt from her clumsy fall. _And_ during this foolish fumble, a small twig had pierced her now tightly bandaged, bloody hand. _And,_ thinking it couldn’t possibly get any worse, she still reeked as finely as the filthy backside of an ill bantha. After all of her suffering, she discovered that it simply wasn’t worth the effort and injury when your close companion had an insatiable appetite for Orran bogworms and a penchant for ruining them.

“You okay, kid?” Greez knew the brown-eyed girl was already in a salty mood and he did feel partially responsible for her tumble. At the time, both himself and BD thought her fall was comedic and failed to maintain their composure. Although Av was a level-headed woman, Greez could tell that he and BD had made a tremendous mistake.

“Sure,” Av replied in a sharp, stiff tone. “You haven’t told me where we’re going, what you were talking to Subu about.”

“Subu’s heard of a place that could use some good hands,” Greez projected his cheery persona. “Heard they’re in need of some good cooks, ya know.”

“I seem to recall you burning that Orran bogworm to such a fine crisp that it was no longer recognizable,” she jeered. At least Greez was mostly positive it was a playful jab, but it was sometimes hard to tell with the woman.

“You and I both know that bogworm is poisonous if you don’t cook it all the way through,” he retorted.

“One-hundred and eighty-five degrees, Greez,” she said. “It’s done when the internal temperature reaches one-hundred and eighty-five degrees. And I only know this because you’re the one who told me that’s the temperature you cook a bogworm to and you were the one who made me go in that bogpit to get one. I didn’t even know bogworm was edible until I met you. I still doubt it is.”

“I was hungry and I needed it done fast,” he shrugged. “Can you blame a guy?”

There it was; the curl in the corner of Av’s lip. Yes, of course, she could still smile. “So, we’re going there to be cooks?” she asked. “Is the job ours, or…? Or what? What is this place?”

“Nevarro.” Greez instinctively flinched in anticipation of Av’s disapproval.

“Nevarro?” Av raised her voice. “Are you serious? Isn’t that a Mandalorian nest?”

“Subu told me that all the Mandalorians got chased out,” he assured her. “They’re trying to run it like a trade outpost or something now. Even got word that the remaining imperial base on the planet was destroyed.”

“Outer Rim…” Av raised her eyebrows and nodded. “I guess that’s better than Republic territory.”

“Um, well, ya see—” Greez lifted his left arms, anxiously rubbing the back of his head, “—It is technically kinda, maybe just a little bit Republic territory.”

Raising his small droid head, BD cautiously buzzed and beeped at Greez.

“Even BD knows it’s bad news,” Av replied. “I should clean myself up… Again,” she said, plucking at the corners of her poncho before standing.

“Subu said Nevarro’s a good place.” Greez swiveled his chair towards her. “He said there’s good people there and solid work. No criminal, illegal nonsense; none of that. No bounty hunting. Not anymore, at least.”

“Right,” Av puffed. “Until we get there, we will see. But you know this isn’t a good idea.”

“Hold on a second.” Greez scooted out of his chair and stopped Av as she entered the holotable room. “Will you hear me out?”

Av pivoted, bending to one knee to face her four-foot friend. “I’m listening.”

Greez smiled at her attentive stance. “This could be a place where we could settle down for a bit, ya know? Maybe instead of getting into trouble every parsec?”

“I don’t get it.” Av withheld a frown. “If you were looking for someplace to settle down, why don’t we just go back to Bogano or back to Merrin?”

“Dathomir?” Greez scoffed and flailed his four arms. “How long do you really think we could’ve spent in a place like that? Still gives me the creeps. And Bogano? Av, there was nothing left on Bogano.”

“There was the Vault.”

“What about the Vault?” Greez shook his head with an annoyed exhale. “Now you want to go back to the Vault? After seven years of refusing to step anywhere near that place?”

“Well, no…” Av balled her fists and gazed to the steel floor, frustrated that she had bothered to mention it. “I don’t want to go to the Vault. I just— I don’t know. What are we doing, Greez? After years of training and after what Cal did— Is this what we’re meant to become? Two cooks in Republic territory in the middle of the Outer Rim of all places?”

“Av.” Greez reached forward, placing two of his arms on her narrow shoulders. “At a certain point we were just hiding; we weren’t doing any good sticking around Bogano twiddling our thumbs away like the rest of the galaxy doesn’t exist.”

“You’re not the one wanted by the Republic,” she reminded him. “And the Old Empire.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, everyone who knew what you looked like and what you did— they’re all dead now.”

Instantly, Av’s brows pushed in and her mouth dropped.

From the cockpit, BD let out a faded whine.

Greez’s eyes went wide. “Uh, no no no—” he backpedaled, “—I was trying to comfort you! I meant it as a good thing! I meant like— they don’t have any records of your face, or— Well, there ain’t no one left of the Empire and I— I realize how hard I’m kicking myself in the behind right now.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Av felt an inch of anger enter the back of her mind, but she closed her eyes and deeply inhaled, effectively chasing the emotions away.

Greez saw it too; the anger filling her and quickly being abated. “I shouldn’t have said it.” He patted her arm. “I’m sorry, Av. I— I shouldn’t have said anything. But… But I can promise you that BD and I won’t give you up. Right, BD?”

BD bounced into the co-pilot’s chair and admitted with a high-pitched beep that her secret was also safe with him. Droid’s honor.

“See?” Greez said. “Eh, er— well, unless the price is right, ya know?”

Av answered with a flat stare.

“I’m only kidding! Just kidding!” Greez swiftly reassured her.

“So?” Av stood, placing her hands on her hips, looking down at her short companion. “We become cooks. Realistically, the best cooks they’ve ever seen.”

“You?” he laughed. “That’s debatable, but I’ll certainly show them.”

“Bit of a step down from piloting around Jedi Knights and Masters, fighting the Old Empire, don’t you think?”

“Well, you know, it’s been a few years since I’ve seen one, so how’s about retiring?” he smirked.

“If you’re trying to insult me it won’t work because I’m not a Jedi, Greez,” Av replied, continuing to her original destination at the back of the Mantis.

“Obviously, not,” Greez said, offering Av an impish expression. “You’re the one who insists they’re not a Jedi after spending all their time doing Jedi things. But no, you’re right. You’re not a Jedi.”

Av spun around crossing her arms. “First, you make me dig through an Orran bogpit to get us dinner, which you destroyed. Second, you tell me we’re going to an ex-Bounty Hunter planet now run by the Republic. Third, you remind me of— of— never mind. And now you’re bothering me about not being a Jedi?”

A multitude of concerned chirping and buzzing came from BD and echoed through the Mantis.

“You see.” Av pointed towards the cockpit. “Even BD knows better than that. We’re going to this planet to spend the rest of our days bussing tables and cooking gruel? That’s it?”

“Do you remember what Merrin said?” Greez asked. “She said it was time for you found your own way in the galaxy. That you need to find your own destiny and your own life or whatever it is. And Merrin— uh, Merrin— not that I understood her half the time, but…. But she’s out doing her own thing. Something that, if you can recall, you weren’t interested in being a part of anyway. And I can’t say I blame you for that one…”

“And you and BD…” Av shrugged. “You’re just along for the ride? What about your fate or destiny or whatever?”

“An old man—” Greez pointed at himself, “—and an old droid—” Greez gestured to the co-pilot’s seat where BD let out a beep in protest, “—what do we got left in the galaxy if it ain’t our best friend? I ain’t leavin’ you, and neither is BD.” 

This time, BD chirped in agreement.

“Besides,” Greez continued, “Who else is gonna fly your butt around this galaxy?”

“I know how to pilot a ship, Greez,” Av disagreed. “But you know I’d just rather not have to.”

“Exactly!” Greez clapped with all of his hands. “So, in the meantime, you still need a pilot and co-pilot.”

Av arched a brow. “But if we’re going to Nevarro to settle down, are we still going to need the Stinger?”

“What?! Are you kiddin’ me?” Greez spat, waving a finger at her. “No matter what happens, we ain’t giving up the Mantis. You got that?”

BD swayed back and forth in the pilot’s seat, letting out a series of pleasant beeps.

“Vacation?” Av said, releasing a short, lazy chuckle. “Right, because we’ll be taking lots of those.”

“You never know.” Greez nodded. “Cal and I once visited this planet where—”

Before Greez could finish, their little droid companion chirped at the cockpit’s controls.

Greez returned to the pilot’s seat, effortlessly pulling his short body into the high seat. “Looks like we’ve arrived,” he said. “I know you had some more cleaning up to do, but you better buckle up, sweetheart.”

Av sauntered to the co-pilot’s seat and made sure that Greez witnessed her exaggerated eye-roll. “Don’t call me that,” she said, but failed to withhold a smile.

“I was thinking of retiring the nickname,” Greez said as he tapped away at the pilot’s console controls. “How about buttercup? You seem like more of a buttercup now that I think about it. Come to think of it, the name sounds familiar. Maybe I read it in a story somewhere?”

“How about you do your job as a good pilot and I don’t tell these people on Nevarro that you’re a sham.”

“A sham!?” Greez exclaimed.

“Yeah, I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll mention that you don’t actually know how to cook and that Lateros are considered a delicacy in some corners of the galaxy.”

* * *

Nothing ends as we want it to or as we expect it to. Moff Gideon’s imperial remnant was effectively dismantled at his downfall and he was thusly handed over to the New Republic as promised. Bo-Katan failed to acquire the Darksaber and it was now in the hands of a man who she believed was not destined for it. The Mandalorian was as we all know him to be— a man who couldn’t care less about the Republic, Moff Gideon, the Darksaber, or the future of Mandalore. Although he knew it to be fate, a piece of his heart had been stolen.

Grogu, the child he had come to know so well, was forever lost. Not lost to the galaxy, but lost to Din Djarin. Din’s purpose and drive had been dictated by that child. No matter the cost, he would return Grogu to his people. And now the price has been paid. A Jedi, one who clearly possessed terrifying power, took Grogu as fate ordained it. In the end, all Din wanted was to help Grogu. And in the end, all Din wanted was to have his best friend back.

Through the parched air and warm sun of the Nevarro evening, Bo-Katan approached the Mandalorian, who sat on the stoop of an abandoned dwelling. His beskar armor had been coated in a layer of ashen soot when he wandered away from the thoroughfare of Nevarro’s main settlement in search of a quiet place to observe the planet’s low sunset. 

“I’m not leaving,” Bo-Katan said as she approached Din from the side of the building, offering him no silence to grieve in. “It’s your duty to take back Mandalore and it’ll be my duty to follow you.”

“You can have the Darksaber,” he repeated himself like a broken holo. He had told her again and again already; he did not want the Darksaber. 

“That’s not how this works and you know that already,” she answered, removing her helmet and revealing her fatigued, red face. “I can’t say I’m pleased that you’re the one who ended up with it. I don’t think you’re capable of retaking Mandalore, but I also don’t have a choice. That is unless you’re willing to battle me for the honor of carrying the saber.”

Unexpectantly, Din pulled off his own helmet to show her his sullen stare. “I’m not going to fight you, or anyone.”

“You might not have a choice.” Bo-Katan shifted her feet together, awaiting a response. When there was none, she continued, “Do you think that I was the only one searching for the Darksaber? I’m not the only Mandalorian who knew Moff Gideon had taken it. And I am not the only one who knows you took it from him. You’re a hero to the Republic now; the selfless Mandalorian who helped capture that useless piece of imperial scum.”

She waited once more for him to say something, but no words came to his lips.

“You can’t ignore this forever,” she said, clenching her jaw as the redness in her cheeks grew deeper. “They will come for you and they will not be as nearly understanding as I am. They will come for you and they will kill you, no matter what. I will not come to your aid when it happens. I will wait for you to get what you deserve and take back what is rightfully mine.”

Din was not going to repeat himself again.

“Fine!” she snapped, stomping at the blackened ground. “I would have offered you mercy! I would have given you a chance to be by my side and save our people! But I see that you’ve already dug your own grave.”

“Mandalore is gone,” he finally spoke.

“And what would you know about Mandalore and its ways? Your Children of the Watch were madmen; they had no idea what was best for Mandalore. Why do you think they left?”

“You take the Darksaber, or you leave,” was Din’s last ultimatum to her.

“You talk about the Way, but you really have no idea. If you truly cared about your people, you would do what’s right and help us retake Mandalore.” Now she was the one beginning to sound like a broken holo. “I’m leaving Nevarro. Not because I want to, but because talking to you has become a complete waste of my time. But let me remind you, I’ll be back. It’s up to you whether or not I return to pick that armor off your dead corpse.”

As Bo-Katan trotted into the distance, Din heard the faint crack of a ship entering the planet’s atmosphere. His head drifted in the direction of Nevarro’s main dock where he saw the distinct blue and silver markings of a Stinger yacht. It was an odd ship to be spotted in Nevarro; in fact, it was an odd ship to be spotted anywhere. A luxury liner of a bygone era stuck out just about as much as a Mandalorian did. Although the out-of-place ship briefly occupied his thoughts, it was not long before the image of Grogu’s soft, innocent face resurfaced. 

He quickly shook the image from his mind, recalling Bo-Katan’s words. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Din had wandered too far off the path; too far from the Way. Perhaps it was time to truly be a Mandalorian once more.


	2. Cooks and Crooks

Greez and BD quietly sat in the Stinger’s cockpit staring out at Nevarro’s foggy, neon sunrise. Although the planet’s lava fields and blackened surface were nothing to admire, its rising sun was awesome. The pair couldn’t help but gaze at the sun’s hypnotic flares of red and amber. 

“It's nice,” Greez finally acknowledged.

With a chirp, BD agreed.

Craning his head over his chair, Greez looked toward the back of the ship. “Av?!” he called. “Are you awake?!”

From the open door of the engine room, Av revealed herself. “I was trying to meditate!” she yelled back, placing her fists on her hips. “And you shouting at me doesn’t make it any easier!”

“Greef Karga will be stopping by soon.” Greez slid out from his chair, walking towards the ship’s kitchen as BD hastily followed. “Are you ready?”

“To talk to another person?” She sauntered through the ship’s main corridor containing the crew quarters and past the couches of the common area to meet BD in the raised galley.

“You smell better!” He pointed to her clean hair and poncho. “Last thing we needed was for this guy to think we’re a group of uncultured slobs.”

“No amount of cleaning up could give someone else a different impression of you, Greez,” she jested.

“Ouch, Av—“ Greez threw his head back and slapped a hand against his chest, “—You really know how to get a guy where it hurts.”

“Alright,” Av said, stretching her arms upward and yawning at the ceiling. “Wanna take a look outside, BD?”

BD released a small buzz of hesitation, but crawled up the side of Av and made himself comfortable on her like a droid backpack. He rested his chin on her shoulder, chirping once more to express his uncertainty.

“Don’t worry.” Av patted his head. “If anyone messes with you, I’ll just rip their arms off or something. Okay?”

Her remark pleased the droid, but not their worrisome Latero friend. “Uh, no— no—” Greez stuttered. “No pulling off anyone’s arms! But you know— if you have to, make sure I’m there to see it happen. I’ve only ever seen a Wookiee do it.”

“I can’t actually pull people’s arms off, Greez.”

BD beeped with disappointment.

“I know.” Greez walked off of the galley and headed for the boarding ramp door. He lazily slapped the ramp control panel and Av left the galley to join him.

As the ramp began lowering, the crew of the Mantis was hit by Nevarro’s hot, sulfuric air.

“This’ll take some getting used to,” Greez said as he fanned at his face with all four arms.

Confused, BD slanted his head at Greez.

“Be glad you don’t have a sense of smell, bud,” Av answered.

Once the ramp hit the ground, Av slowly walked down it, observing two cargo ships that must have landed earlier that morning. When it came to ships and their classes, Av knew next to nothing about them. All she could tell is that they were in relatively poor condition and probably on their last legs. She watched as a handful of people, mostly humans with a couple of droids, unloaded the two vessels. 

“Looks like they’re in a hurry,” Av commented, noting their casual pace.

The clattering of short footfalls came down the ramp behind her. “Oh, wait. I need to tell you a few things,” Greez said as he arrived by her side. He stopped, lifted up a foot, and frowned at the black soot already coating his boots. “This nasty stuff is going to get everywhere.”

Av crouched and ran her fingers through the thick dirt coating the ship dock’s steel base. “Don’t suppose anything could grow in a place like this? Looks like this ash would choke everything.”

A scanning beam sprouted from BD’s eyes as he examined the dock’s filthy surface. He beeped at Av, informing them that her hypothesis was likely correct.

“So, it ain’t perfect.” Greez flapped his arms. “But it’ll be good… We’ll make it good.”

“What did you want to tell me?’ Av reminded him.

“Right, right!” Greez pulled at the bottom of his red jacket. “Since this is Republic territory, Subu made us some fake IDs. So, according to their records, we’re ex-scrappers.”

“Cal was a scrapper.” It was the first thought that popped into her mind.

“Yeah, I know. It was a coincidence. He had to think of something that didn’t make us look like criminals or a possible threat.”

“And why did we give up the lucrative scrapper lifestyle to become cooks?’ Av raised a brow.

“Do I need to explain that one?”

“Probably not,” Av sighed, agreeing. “Ex-scrapper? I can work with that. And our names? Are they going to be the same?”

“Subu said that the Republic didn’t have records on either a Greez Dritus or an Avnalah Isadole Bray, so we’re good.” He nodded.

“Good. A fourth name change would be annoying at this point.”

Greez reached out an arm and gently grabbed her wrist. “You’ll always be Av to me and BD.”

She smiled at him in return. “Thanks.” 

* * *

Cara Dune was relaxing in her office chair; her legs spread across the top of her workstation, her narrow eyes locked onto the morning’s sun, and her fingers wrapped around a pleasantly warm cup of tea. The satisfaction of throwing that sniveling snake Moff Gideon away for the rest of his life and rescuing the child still clung to her thoughts. It was far beyond a job well done; it was the best damn job she’d ever done. Despite her inner celebration, she knew that Mando’s struggle was far from over. His struggle was complicated; perhaps it was too complicated for her to understand. However, she did understand that the man was grieving the loss of his close friend. The Mandalorian claimed that the child was where he belonged, but the Mando didn’t sound convinced. It wasn’t for her to say; she didn’t know the child as he did. 

The beskar armored man appeared in her doorway, silently staring.

“I told your Mando buddies to beat it before I beat them,” she spoke, taking a sip from her drink. “The Republic appreciates what they’ve done, but this isn’t a place for bounty hunters. Not anymore.”

Mando said nothing.

“If you ask me, that Bo-Katan has something up her ass. She certainly can’t stand being told what to do.”

“I’m grateful to her,” the words barely escaped his mouth.

“They said they’ll leave.” Cara placed her feet on the ground and offered Mando an expression of sympathy. “Did she take the saber?”

He shook his head.

“Does that make you the leader of the Mandalorians?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“If you plan on sticking around here, something might come up,” she suggested. “I hate to be the first one to admit it, but what the Republic has done— it’s done some good. Capturing Moff Gideon was one more step towards finally putting an end to the Old Empire remnants. There’s nobody left but a bunch of random, lost fugitives. Half of which are probably dead at this point.”

“You want me to hunt down a bunch of Republic fugitives?”

“No,” Cara glared in response. “I don’t expect you to or want you to. But maybe if something comes up in this sector and the Republic needs an extra hand. All I’m saying is that if you stick around here— if you stick around here, maybe you can do some good. No pressure.”

“Bo-Katan said other Mandalorians know about the Darksaber.” He knew all too well that hiding possible imminent danger was never a good idea. “Others might come for me.”

Cara leaned forward, wringing her hands around her mug. “If you need help, we’ll be here. If they’re looking to come to Nevarro and start a fight, they’ll be starting a fight with the Republic. They’ll be starting a fight with me.”

Din smiled from underneath his mask; a gesture that unfortunately went unnoticed.

* * *

“Hey there!” A tall, dark man wearing a long, black coat shouted at Greez and his companions from a distance. With a welcoming grin, he strode across the steel dock, kicking up a whirlwind of ash.

Greez instinctively positioned himself between Av and the stranger. “Greef Karga?” He squinted.

“The one and only,” Karga’s voice boomed as he shoved a hand out to Greez. “Magistrate of Nevarro.”

“Greez Dritus,” Greez replied, taking the man’s strong grip. “And this here is Avnalah and our droid BD-1”

A low hiss of disapproval came from BD.

“Our _friend_ , BD,” Greez corrected himself.

“Seems like a good droid,” Karga laughed. “The three of you came highly recommended by Subu.”

Av gave him a short nod. “Let’s hope we can live up to that.”

“That is a mighty fine ship you have there!” Karga couldn’t help but notice the low sun reflecting off of the Mantis’s shinning hull.

“Not for sale!” Greez spat with a fierce expression.

“Hey, now!” Karga defensively lifted his hands. “I wasn’t askin’. Just noticing, is all. I wouldn’t want to give up a ship like that either. She’s a beaut’.”

An awkward moment of silence hung between the four before Greez spoke up, “No time like the present.”

“Absolutely,” Karga nodded, turning a one-eighty. “Follow me,” he commanded the group with a wave. “I’ve already had some of my people gather materials in a building on the east side of the settlement. They managed to gather up a cooking stove and a few benches that could use a little love and care.”

Picking up her pace, Av matched Karga’s long stride. “You don’t already have a place set up?” she asked. “Does Nevarro not already have a cantina?”

Karga stopped in his tracks directly below the large, unfallen arch that designated the city’s entrance. “The cantina was converted into a school for the local children,” he replied. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to do with what you got.”

“Uh, Magistrate—“ Av started, but Karga shushed her with a swift pat on the shoulder.

“Just call me Karga.” He smiled.

“Karga,” she corrected herself. “What exactly is it that you’re expecting from Greez and I?”

“To get Nevarro’s first soup kitchen up and running,” Karga said, puzzled by her question. “Did Subu not give you the details?”

Greez let out a short moan. “Of course, he didn’t. When does Subu ever give up the whole truth?”

“Right!” Karga laughed. “I had half a mind to reject the three of you, but Subu provided me with some squeaky-clean records.”

“Too clean?” Greez tapped his chin.

“Look—“ Karga scratched the side of his head, “—I don’t care about whatever you three did or did not do before this so long as you’re here to work hard and treat this city like your own. Subu said you can cook and you can cook, right?”

“Like no one in the Outer Rim has ever seen,” Greez boasted.

If droids could laugh, the tiny chirping noise that came from BD-1 was certainly comparable.

Av grinned across her shoulder at him. “Don’t listen to BD,” she said to Karga. “Greez isn’t nearly as bad as he says he is.”

The Magistrate laughed once more and continued guiding them through the settlement to its Eastern part. The group’s eyes darted across the collection of grey, stone buildings, most of which were still intact; however, a few were crumbling and failing to stand the test of time. In between the various buildings and spread across the cobbled ground were a few small vendors selling mechanical wears and food that reeked of inedibility. 

There was nothing of particular interest in the market until Av saw three people who were sporting blue-painted Mandalorian armor. “Mandalorians?” Av halted.

A look of concern crossed Greez’s face. “What are they doing here?” He stepped in front of Karga. “We were under the impression that this place was bounty hunter free.”

“No need to worry,” Karga calmly answered, gesturing downward with open palms. “They were told to leave by high-noon today.”

Anxiously, Av lowered her head. “What are they even doing here?”

“It’s a long story, but they were instrumental in helping us capture a Republic fugitive.”

“Fugitive?” Av asked with her head still facing the ground.

“Moff Gideon,” Karga informed her. “He was in command of an Imperial remnant. It wasn’t too long ago that he and his soldiers attacked Nevarro.”

Greez could see panic entering Av’s face as she tightly shut her eyes. “Why’d he attack this place?” he asked.

“Look—” Karga exhaled, “—That’s probably too long of a story and I shouldn’t be the one to tell it.”

“You alright?” Greez whispered to Av, grabbing her hand.

She nodded taking in a deep breath and opened her eyes to smile at him. “I’m fine.”

It was impossible for Karga to ignore her reaction. “Not a fan of Mandalorians, I take it?”

“Who is?” Greez responded for all three of them. “Not the friendliest bunch.”

“I hear you,” Karga said, commencing their walk. “But as I said, they’ll be gone soon enough.”

* * *

Cara Dune finished her morning tea, smirking with derision as she flipped through the Republic’s repository of known and wanted criminals. Most of the delinquents on the list couldn’t have possibly been worth anyone’s time; just a bunch ex-Empire scum and people accused of sedition against the Republic, if you could call it that. But within the list lied a handful of nightmares; the kind of criminals Cara wouldn’t classify as scum. The kind of individuals you’d never want to meet in real life. They were all registered as known Force-users; people she had known little about until now. Luckily for her and the galaxy, the majority of these people were MOA and presumed dead.

While Cara was cycling through the database, Mando idly stood by the office’s large, open window, facing the city’s busier avenue.

“Some bad people out there,” she said, pulling herself away from the aging console.

Din observed Greef Karga as he walked into town accompanied by two strangers and a droid. One was a Latero; a green-skinned, four-armed being. The other was a human female with tired, dark eyes, but there was a peaceful nature to her demeanor. As well, she carried a red and beige explorer droid on her back; a rare and odd companion. 

“The Stinger yacht,” Din spoke, turning to Cara. “Are they the ones who came in on it?” He pointed out the window.

Tired of reading through the endless list of wanted persons, Cara stretched out from behind her desk and joined Mando by the window. “Probably,” she said. “Karga brought them in to run the soup kitchen. He said they came highly recommended by Subu.”

“Subu?” Din was familiar with Subu and his often-suspicious dealings. 

“I know,” Cara agreed. “I don’t get it, but Karga insisted on it. Going off about making this place stable and somewhere where people want to come like some sort of sick tourist trap. I couldn’t care less, so long as they don’t decide to start any trouble.”

“Do you trust them?” he asked.

“Two random people from somewhere in the galaxy who just want to be cooks?” Cara returned to her desk and tapped on her computer console’s screen. As she did so, dossiers of the newcomers illuminated the holo-projector in the center of her desk. “Ex-scrappers?” She gestured at the images. “They’re not here to cause trouble.”

Call it bounty hunter intuition, but despite the Marshal’s words, Din had a bad feeling about the pair. He found it unlikely that ex-scrappers managed to get their hands on a Stinger; especially one in as good condition as theirs. And then there was the explorer droid which could easily be considered an expensive commodity.

“Relax,” Cara reassured him. “As I said— if anyone is going to cause trouble around here, I’ll be the one to end it.” 

* * *

When the group arrived in the city’s eastern block, Greef Karga raised his arms, motioning towards a leaden colored structure in front of the group. “Here we are!” he said.

The building was made up of two connected, adjacent domes. One dome was large enough to house a hundred people and the other was roughly one-third the size. At some point, the rectangular, steel door that made up the building’s main entrance had been forcefully removed. Additionally, the metal slats covering the structure’s circular windows had been either severely bent or removed entirely.

Wordlessly, Greez, Av, and BD-1 entered the lifeless building as Karga closely followed behind.

From Av’s back, BD-1 made a long, flat, whistling noise.

Karga chuckled in response. “I know it looks pretty rough,” he said, “but I was under the impression you could handle it.”

The three spun around the room, gapping at its complete disarray. Electrical wiring sprang out from several places in the walls and ceiling; it appeared as if someone stripped the room of all of its useful circuitry. A multitude of steel and wooden benches were splayed on one side of the room next to an electrical cooking stove that was haphazardly laying on its side. On the opposite wall was a doorway that likely led into the smaller dome. In the center of the room was a continuous, round serving counter that had enough space for at least three or four people to stand behind. And to finish it off, an inch of ashen dust rested atop nearly everything.

“What a mess.” Greez frowned, shaking his head. “How do you expect us to clean this place up?”

For a brief moment, Karga looked annoyed, but he pushed it to the side with another lavish smile. “Subu said you’d know what you’re doing. Besides, if you can’t handle it, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Av and Greez’s expressions dropped.

“Don’t worry about it,” Karga laughed, relieving the crew’s tension.

Av tugged at the collar of her poncho and cleared her throat. “I saw that there was a plot in the back,” she said.

“If you can grow anything in this place, I’ll give you fifty credits,” Karga remarked, pointing his head at the building’s rear entrance. “Hell, if you can get this place runnin’ in three days, I’ll give you a hundred.”

Unbeknownst to Karga, Greez was a betting man who could never say no. “Agreed,” he said, sticking a palm out to Karga. 

Karga seemed amused, but he took the Latero’s hand in good faith and gave it a rough shake. “There’ll be a shipload of supplies comin’ in a few days, so I’m counting on the three of you.”

Greez beamed at Av and BD. “Don’t you worry,” he said to Karga. “We’ll have this place up in running in no time.”


	3. Hassles and Halliksets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit due to my proofreader who edited this chapter for me! Big thanks.

The sun rose again on Nevarro and Cara Dune was once more partaking in her morning ritual of mindful introspection and hot tea enjoyment. Four days had passed since Bo-Katan and her fellow Mandalorian hooligans departed; four days since Mando had effectively done nothing but brood. For the first couple of hours in the morning, Mando would motionlessly sit on the low stoop in front of the Marshal’s office. Afterward, he would slowly meander along the city’s central street heading eastward. A few more hours would pass and he would return to the office, stepping inside to provide Cara with useless information regarding the three newcomers and their soup kitchen.

“The droid was able to make repairs; they have working electricity now,” he said on the first day. “I heard the Latero curse the cooking stove,” he said on the second day. “They received a shipment of various supply crates. Karga was there,” he said on the third day. Today was different. Instead, Mando immediately entered Cara’s office, silently stood next to her desk, and stared out the office’s window.

“Loth-cat caught your tongue?” She stood up from the desk, approaching him.

“I was watching the supply ships come in this morning,” he said flatly. “I asked myself what I was doing. All I could think of was him.”

Cara opened her mouth and hesitated, unsure of what to say. “I— I know how hard it is to lose somebody,” she started. “I know you know how hard it is. But, at least you know he’s where he belongs.”

“That Jedi—“ Din stopped himself, recognizing that the word no longer contained the acerbic feel it once had, “Grogu had to go with him. It was the Way.”

“Then why are you acting like he’s dead?” Cara said, pursing her lips. “You’re lucky to know he’s still out there. He’s safe. That’s more than a lot of us can say.”

Din headed for the office door, but Cara reached out her hand. “Wait,” she said. He paused, cocking his head across his shoulder.

“I could use your help,” she continued, returning to her computer console. “A report came in last night about an ex-Empire outpost in the area. The Republic plans on sending in a squadron, but they won’t reach the outpost for another six days.” 

Cara began touching the computer’s screen, the faces of three humanoid beings appeared on the holo-projector. Din stepped closer to the hologram, examining the text listed below the displayed characters. All three individuals had been reported to the Republic as missing after a convoy they belonged to had been boarded and destroyed. 

“I know being reported as missing is optimistic after you blow up a ship.” She sensed the Mandalorian's apprehension. “But, Teva believes they were taken as prisoners to the outpost.”

“Why does he think that?” Din asked.

“He didn’t say, but if they’re there— Teva thinks six days is too long.”

“He thinks they’ll be killed?”

“Yeah,” Cara confirmed with a grim nod. “I can’t go myself.”

Exhaling, Din planted his hands on her desk. “Why not?”

“In case you weren’t paying attention, I’m trying to keep this city peaceful, civil, and running.” Cara switched the holo off and strode back to her chair. “I have to stay here.”

“I don’t have a ship,” he shrugged. 

Cara plopped into her chair and hoisted her legs atop the desk. “Borrow one.”

“Any suggestions?”

“There’s a nice Stinger sitting in the docks.” She smirked. “Maybe you can convince the owner to let you borrow it.”

* * *

The dry heat and scorched earth Nevarro provided gave few options when it came to flora or fauna. Qartuums and lava meerkats somehow flourished in the environment, but that was beyond Av’s expertise; all she cared about was getting something or anything to sprout. The empty lot behind the soup kitchen offered roughly five-hundred square-feet of useless dirt. Luckily, the recent shipment she, Greez, and BD received contained an unsightly crate of rotted vegetables that were infested with fat, slimy annelids. Not one to look a gift orbak in the mouth, Av collected some local waste, _which was really disgusting and something she did not want to do again,_ and put the disgusting worms to work.

“You better get started,” Av spoke to the annelids. After two days of thriving, it was time to aerate the ground and sprinkle it with the fruits of the annelids’ labor.

Meanwhile, inside the dome, Greez was at his wit's end trying and failing to get the electric cooking stove operational. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly Greez’s fault that the poor appliance wouldn’t start. On the second day after their arrival, Av and BD assured Greez they’d be able to fix the stove. Instead, the pair blew a fuse in it causing Av to burn her already damaged hand and BD to singe one of his optical viewers. After a few choice words from Greez, neither of them was allowed to continue repairs on it. And as if all of this wasn’t bad enough, Greez lost his bet with Karga and Greez _did not_ like losing. 

As BD observed his Latero friend, he let out a series of short chirps.

“That’s not gonna work,” Greez replied, flailing his wrench at the small droid. “If I cross this wire with that one, the thing’s just gonna blow again. I need to open up the base panel to see what’s going on in there. I’m about to rip this thing apart and start a bonfire in the middle of—”

Suddenly, BD let out a high-pitched screech, alerting Greez that they had an unwanted visitor.

“Mandalorian?” Greez scoffed, pushing himself up from his knees and wiping soot off of his legs. “What are you talking—” he halted, seeing exactly what BD had warned him of standing in the kitchen’s front doorway. “Uh—” Greez hesitated, “—we’re not open.”

“You’re the owner of the Stinger yacht?” Din asked.

“Could be.” Greez shrugged with all four arms. “Who’s askin’?”

“I need to borrow it.”

Greez squinted and blinked at the man. “Say what?” he said.

“I need to borrow your ship,” Din repeated.

“I— Uh, jeez. What do I even say?” Greez was baffled. “No. No mister Mandalorian who I’ve never met before and is a complete stranger. I’m not letting you borrow _my_ ship.”

Din stepped further into the building, watching as the explorer droid hid behind the short Latero. “I work for the Magistrate and the Marshal,” he said, which was only half of a lie.

“Oh, well, you should have said so!” Greez sarcastically exclaimed. “Why don’t I just go get you the keys?”

From the back garden of the dome, Av stood staring through one of the slated windows, watching her close friend talk the strange Mandalorian. Instinctively, she shifted her feet wanting to run away but Greez did not carry an expression of worry. He simply seemed amused.

Inside the dome Din sighed. “I need your help,” he said to Greez, attempting to be more tactful. “The Republic picked up an ex-Empire outpost not far from here and they’re holding hostages.”

“I— Well…” Greez frowned, confused by the Mandalorian’s words. “I want half of the cut from whatever the Magistrate is paying you.”

“He’s not paying me.”

“Then half of whatever the Marshal is paying you.”

“The Marshal isn’t paying me.”

“Okay,” Greez moaned, “Then half of whatever, whoever is paying you to do this.”

“Nobody is paying me,” Din informed him.

Curiously, Greez stroked the top of his head with his two left arms. “So why are you doing this? What are you getting in return?”

Din had no answer.

Carefully, BD stepped out from behind Greez and tilted his head at the Mandalorian. The droid made a series of low beeps.

“Ha!” Greez burst at BD. “You can’t be serious?!”

Din flicked his head between the droid and Greez. “What did it say?” he asked.

Greez raised a brow. “What? Don’t speak droid? Who doesn’t speak droid in this day and age?”

There was no reply from the Mandalorian.

“He wanted to know if you were doing this out of the kindness of your heart,” Greez translated.

Again, Din had no response.

“Sorry, pal, but I can’t let you take my ship,” Greez said, turning away from the Mandalorian and returning to his kneeling position on the floor in front of the cooking stove. “Especially if nobody is getting paid,” he added. 

BD stood firm, holding his curious stare on the odd man.

“Please,” Din implored the little droid.

A pitiful whine escaped the droid as he poked a foot at Greez.

At that moment, Av walked into the dome from its back garden entrance. “I think Greez has made it clear that you’re not taking the Mantis,” she said.

Din rotated his head to face her, gazing at the filthy, tattered ends of her poncho and the ashen dirt coating her high-laced, russet boots. Her fierce scrutiny of the Mandalorian was only exacerbated by the deep, vertical scar that cut across her left brow. 

Slapping his wrench to the floor, Greez groaned and stood back up. “These people— no one else can help ‘em?” Greez asked the Mandalorian.

“The Republic is sending a squadron but they won’t arrive for another six days,” Din said, “Your ship can get us there in five hours.”

“Oh, well! —” Greez flapped his arms, “—Looks like we got ourselves a Stinger expert here, eh Av?”

Av rolled her eyes as she approached the center of the room where the group was standing. “And what’s wrong with waiting six days?” she asked the Mandalorian.

“The prisoners may not have that long,” Din spoke grimly.

BD looked up to Av and Greez, crying once more.

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” Greez murmured to himself. “I— I don’t know. You know, there’s a lot going on here. We’re kinda busy, can’t you see?”

Av spun around, checking out the state of the dome. It was still coated in an inch of gross soot, but all the benches had been positioned around the room and BD had cleaned up the loose wires hanging from the walls and ceiling. “I can get the stove working,” she told Greez, the hard scowl vanishing from her forehead. “You can go with the Mandalorian and BD and I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“No way!” Greez jabbed a stiff finger at her. “You’ve already done enough damage to the stove.”

“You said it yourself, we can’t just let him take the ship,” Av argued.

“I know what I said!” Greez snapped in return. “We won’t let him just take the ship.”

“Okay…” Av said, looking slightly bemused. “You’re on your own then, Tin Man.”

Greez lowered his head and uttered something incomprehensible under his breath. “BD can pilot the Mantis and Av… you can be his co-pilot,” he finally said, raising his eyes.

“What?!” Av gaped at the Mandalorian. “I can’t go with him!”

Din spoke up, “I can pilot the Mantis on my own.”

“No!” Both Av and Greez yelled at him. There was a moment of silence between the four before Greez lifted another smile to Av. “Ten hours there and back, you’ll be with BD, and it won’t kill you,” he said.

Concerned, Av’s eyes fluttered between Greez and the Mandalorian. “No— what?” she stuttered. “You can’t be serious?”

“He needs your help. The guy is practically begging at this point.”

“Ahaha—” Av uncomfortably swallowed. “A Mandalorian asking for my help? There’s the day. Greez, you can’t be serious?” 

Greez didn’t need to say another word; all he had to do was give her _that look._ That look that said, “ _C_ _’_ _mon Av, you can do this one thing. I know you can do this one thing.”_

“Fiiiine,” she relented.

BD whimsically chimed and enthusiastically climbed onto Av’s back.

“Okay.” Av nodded. “But I’m not doing this for you—” she gestured at the Mandalorian, “—I’m doing this for the people who need your help.”

* * *

Both the Marshal and the Magistrate were in Cara’s office reviewing the new shipment manifests when the sight of the Mandalorian crossing the city’s center avenue caught their attention. In the Mandalorian’s tow were two of Nevarro’s newcomers; the adorable explorer droid and the brown-eyed woman who carried him. The trio was making their way to the city’s exit and presumably to Nevarro’s docks.

Karga saw a faint grin grow on Cara’s face. “Whater’ they doing?” he asked.

“Hopefully, some good.” 

* * *

The long ramp to the Mantis quickly lowered and Din followed Av and BD as they went up it. Once the three entered the Mantis’s common area, Av pivoted to face the Mandalorian. “Just don’t touch anything,” she said. “If Greez finds a speck of dust out of place next time he’s on the Mantis, he’ll have my head.”

Although distracted by the ship’s bizarre aroma of sweet spices, Din nodded to confirm her request.

“Okay, BD.” Av walked to the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “Let’s get ‘er going.”

The Mantis’s terrarium full of bright and peculiar plants and its kitchen full of foreign accoutrements briefly caught Din’s eye as he followed Av into the cockpit. Inside the cockpit itself, the high-chairs of the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seat overlooked the circular window that made up the front of the ship. The Mantis’s cockpit offered an incredible one-eighty view that was unique to its class of ship.

As Din approached the pilot’s seat, Av held out her arm to block him. “I don’t think so, Tin Man,” she said, indicating to the low seat stationed at the ship’s comm panel behind her. “Only the captain gets to sit in the pilot’s seat and you’re the captain, BD.”

BD crawled off of Av’s shoulder and jumped into the pilot’s seat. He chirped, telling Av that he couldn’t reach the control panels from the chair.

Av sighed. “Fair,” she said, watching BD hop onto the front controls. “You can sit here,” she looked at the Mandalorian and patted the pilot’s seat. “But don’t touch anything.”

He nodded once more, acknowledging her command.

“You know what to do, BD,” Av spoke while pressing a few knobs on the panel in front of her. “You’ve got the coordinates, Tin Man?”

“Ersev,” Din replied, lowering himself into the pilot’s seat. “It’s in this sector.”

“Do what you do, BD.” Av smiled at the droid. “Punch it, or engage, or whatever you prefer.” In one smooth motion, the Mantis lifted up into the sky and started its hyperdrive, blasting itself and the crew through space.

Av looked to the Mandalorian. “You have a name, Tin Man?” she asked.

Through a series of buzzes and beeps BD reminded Av that, traditionally, Mandalorians do not share their birth names. 

“I see,” she said. “Is that true for you?”

Directly, BD reminded Av that the Mandalorian could not speak droid. 

“Right,” she recalled from eavesdropping on him and Greez earlier. “He says it’s tradition that Mandalorians don’t share their birth names.”

Din said nothing.

“Okay—” Av smacked her thighs, "—Tin Man it is. I’m Av, in case you missed it. And he’s BD.” She pointed to the droid. “Uh, well,” Av turned around in her chair and pulled herself up, “We have five hours to kill. If you want to rest, I can show you the guest quarters and if you’re hungry there’s food in the kitchen.”

The Mandalorian spun around, also getting up from his chair. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged at him and left the cockpit heading for the common area. Unsure of how to proceed, Din quietly stood in the cockpit watching the explorer droid as it plugged and unplugged itself from various sections of the control panel.

BD let out a chirp of annoyance when he noticed that Tin Man was leering at him. 

From the near common area, Din heard Av shout at him, “Leave the pilot alone!”

Gradually, Din parted from the cockpit, walking past the ship’s holo-display that showed their current destination. When he arrived back at the colorful terrarium, he leaned down to get a closer look at the plants.

“Be careful,” Av said from below the galley. He straightened out, peered over the galley, and saw that Av was holding a seven-string hallikset as she sat on the L-shaped couch inside the common area. “Some of those bite,” she told him. “I wouldn’t touch them.”

Not knowing what else to do, Din joined Av on the opposite side of the couch. “Did you know those other Mandalorians on Nevarro?” she asked, unprompted.

Din did not reply.

“Karga told us that they helped capture Moff Gideon,” she said, pulling at a single string on the instrument. “One less Moff… I can’t say that that isn’t a good thing. I’m just wondering why any Mandalorian cares about helping the Republic out.”

Din remained silent.

“Alright…” Av mumbled to herself. She commenced plucking at the strings of the instrument. After a few moments the notes coalesced to create a pleasant and light melody. Eventually, Av began humming a tune to match the whimsical strums. In a trance, Din listened to the entirety of the melancholy tune. Finally, Av whispered the last lines of the song to herself, “ _…give up on me...”_

The last note of the song echoed and faded through the hull of the Mantis. Din gazed at her, wishing to say something, but he was unable to push the words from his throat.

Shamefaced, Av stared down at the instrument. “It isn’t my song, it was someone else’s. In case you were wondering,” she said.

Din raised his hand to his covered mouth, let out a stiff cough, and shook his head. “You played it well,” he managed.

“I guess it looks that way.” Av smirked, placing the hallikset on the ground. “But, uh— That isn’t exactly what it is. Some things in this galaxy have memories so powerful that—” she stopped herself. “I guess you wouldn’t get that. But anyways, it was a song that a friend of Greez’s wrote.”

“Where is this friend now?’ Din wondered.

“Dead, I think.” Av kept her eyes locked on the stringed instrument. “He won’t talk about her, so I don’t ask about her. I know her name was Cere and that she played this hallikset. And that she was—” Av stopped herself again. “It doesn’t matter.”

Much of what Av had said left Din feeling slightly disconcerted but he avoided further prodding of the subject. “The plants,” he said, “Who grew them?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions for someone who isn’t willing to answer any.”

“I did know those Mandalorians,” Din spoke abruptly. “They helped me stop Moff Gideon. I am grateful to them but we are not alike.”

“Oh, wow—” Av clapped, “—And here I thought you weren’t the talkative type.”

Again, Din opted for a wordless response.

“What did it matter to you about Moff Gideon?” Av asked, standing up from the couch and circumnavigating the table in front of it to reach Din’s side. “Republic fugitive? I didn’t think the Republic was into bounties.”

“No bounty,” Din bent his head upward to her. “He took— somebody. It was someone very important to me.”

Av offered him a quizzical stare as she ascended the stairs into the galley. “And, I can imagine since you and your Mando buddies caught Gideon you saved your friend?” she asked.

“Yes.” Din leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs.

“And—” Av entered the kitchen, but her speech was interrupted by the insufferable squeaking of the loose floor panel. “Uh,” she continued, ignoring the sound, “Where’s your friend now?”

“Where he belongs,” Din said, wringing his gloved hands together.

Out of the blue a loud clang of metallic dishes came from the kitchen. Din shot up from his seat, twisting his body towards the noise.

“Want some tea?” Av lifted her eyebrows with a steel kettle in hand.

Relaxing, Din sat back down.

“And where _is_ where he belongs?” Av questioned him further.

“With a Jedi…” Din muttered to himself. From behind him, he heard a cup clatter to the ground.

“Ah, whoops! —” Av apologized, retrieving the cup from the floor and walking down the stairs into the common area. “Sorry, what did you say?” she asked, puzzled. 

“A Jedi named Luke Skywalker took him.” Until this point, Din had not spoken the words himself. “I could not take care of him the way he needed to be taken care of. He needed someone who understood him in a way I didn’t.”

“I— Um, I don’t—” A dour expression filled her red cheeks. “A Jedi, huh?”

“It was the only way…” Din was surprised by her uneasy reaction. 

“I think I’ll pass on the tea.” Av let out a long breath and held out the mug to Tin Man. “But the kettle’s ready if you want some.” 

Reluctantly, Din grasped the silver cup from her.

“Uh, well—” Av rubbed her hands across her black leather pants, brushing away a cloud of grey dust. “If you need anything, I’ll be in engineering meditating.” She motioned to the back of the ship.

Din clasped the flimsy mug, endlessly studying its bottom as if it would reveal some long-lost secret held within the Mantis. It was equal parts unnerving, uncomfortable, and relieving for Din to admit what he had to Av. Yet, her reaction was senseless. It was as if she had heard the name Luke Skywalker before. 


	4. Troubles and Troopers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my proofreader for editing this chapter. Also, I apologize for posting this a week later than I expected. I will try my best to publish the next chapter on the 19th. But no promises D:

After receiving no answers from the metallic cup Din removed himself from the common area and ascended the stairs to the galley. Unlike the Razor Crest, the Mantis had a fully equipped kitchen featuring a dining table, a narrow prep counter, a cooking stove, and cold storage. Next to the stove sat the steaming kettle that Av had been holding earlier and next to the kettle was a clear glass jar filled with tiny red and orange dried leaves; he could only assume this was the aforementioned tea.

Having poured himself a cup, Din returned to his spot on the couch. When he lifted the chin of his helmet to take a sip he was overwhelmed by the drink’s sour, bitter scent. Despite its off-putting odor Din decided to give it a taste. Although the drink’s flavor was more palatable than its scent, it still overwhelmed his senses. He gave the drink an additional sip and wondered why Av thought it was a good idea to offer it to anyone. Yet, he had to admit that the tea had a calming quality once the flavors set in. In fact, the tea was so calming that Din failed to realize he had tumbled off the couch and onto the steel floor of the Mantis.

* * *

Vigorously, Av shook Tin Man into consciousness. “I should have warned you,” she said. “Two leaves at most— any more and you’re asking for trouble.”

Clutching the sides of his helmet, Din only now registered that he had fallen onto the Mantis’s floor. “What…?” he groggily murmured. “What happened…?”

“Nodeh tea,” she gestured to the cup and its splayed contents on the floor beside him. “It’s used in relaxation rituals. The more you drink, the more relaxed you feel. I think you got just about as relaxed as anyone can get.”

As if from nowhere BD hovered over the Mandalorian’s head and chirped in his ear.

Din swatted at the droid and clumsily bolted upright. Av tried to hold in a chuckle but ultimately failed. “I don’t feel relaxed,” Din said, gripping his helmet again and flinching at his throbbing headache.

“I think you hit your head on the way down.” Av’s grin eased into a subtle smile. “But, uh, BD wanted to tell you something.”

BD let out a series of beeps and pointed a foot toward the cockpit.

“What’d he say?” Din asked, letting go of his head.

“We’ve arrived at Ersev,” Av translated. “Not only that, but he picked up the outpost on our scanners.”

Regardless of Din’s lost five hours and painful headache, he addressed the matter at hand, “Bring the Mantis in low and set it down three-kilometers from the outpost.”

Unsure of whether or not he could take direct orders from Tin Man, BD peered at Av and waited. “Bring the Mantis in low and set it down three-kilometers from the outpost,” Av repeated the Mandalorian’s words. “You better buckle up,” she said to them, waving her hands toward the cockpit.

Tin Man nodded in response, walked through the galley, and took his place in the pilot’s seat.

Closely following him, Av sat into the co-pilot’s seat. “Alright BD,” she said, “You know what to do.”

From the cockpit’s floor, BD launched himself onto the control console and plugged himself into one of the panels. Spontaneously, the ship stuttered out of hyperspace and began its descent toward the green forest planet of Ersev. BD managed to find a clearing in the dense pine trees that was nearly large enough to accommodate the Mantis. However, as BD lowered the ship the hull of the Mantis scraped against one of the forty-foot trees, ripping it to shreds. Both Av and Din recoiled at the terrible grinding noise that rang throughout the ship. Once the ship was safely on the ground BD released a sequence of unconcerned chirps.

“He said don’t worry about it,” Av spoke, still wincing from the awful racket. “Ship’s fine.”

Swiftly, Din pivoted in his chair, removed himself, and entered the holotable room. He pushed his tattered cloak to the side and unfastened his blaster pistol from its holster. He checked the pistol once, twice, three times to make sure of its stability. Once he was satisfied he put the pistol back in its holster and drew the beskar spear from behind him.

“You plan on using any of those?” Av spun in her chair and lifted a cynical brow. 

“If I have to,” Din spoke, flicking the tip of the spear with a gloved thumb.

She shook her head. “I expected nothing less from a Mandalorian.”

“I’ll maintain radio contact in case anything happens.” Ignoring her comment, Din strolled down the galley stairs and tapped at the ship’s ramp controls.

Before the ramp hit the ground BD leaped from the cockpit’s console and scurried to Tin Man. Staring up at him, BD let out a multitude of beeps and buzzes. Stumped by the droid’s sounds, Din looked to Av and awaited her translation. She released a short sigh and meandered to their position in front of the boarding ramp. 

“He thinks it’s a good idea that you take him with you,” Av spoke. “I would have to disagree.”

A sharp, high-pitched chirp erupted from BD.

Defensively, Av lifted her palms. “I’m not your mother! I can’t make decisions for you. I’m just sayin’ that I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Din lowered his head to the droid. “She’s right,” he agreed.

BD began rapidly jumping on the ground, chirping and buzzing to implore Tin Man.

“He’s an explorer droid, so scouting is what he does best,” she told him. “He might be able to show you something your visor can’t.” 

BD reached out his small foot, wrapping it around Din’s ankle.

“He insists,” Av added, flapping her arms. “There’s nothing I can do to stop him.”

Against his better judgment, Din acceded to the droid’s demands, “Alright.”

Joyously, BD beeped and crawled up the Mandalorian’s back making himself comfortable.

Out of instinct, Din arched his shoulders against the droid and turned to Av. “This isn’t my problem,” she said, shrugging at him. “Try not to get into any trouble.” She pointed at BD.

“I can’t understand him,” Din reminded her.

“You two can figure it out.”

* * *

There was a piercing crispness to the air on Ersev; Din could feel the cold discomfort of the planet’s air every time he inhaled. In spite of the coldness, Ersev was dense with immensely sized conifers and rich ferns constantly being showered by the sun’s rays. The amount of tightly packed flora would offer plenty of cover for Din to launch a sneak attack or a possible ambush. Nonetheless, this went both ways. The thick brush was also perfect for hiding an outpost and the troopers who monitored it. 

“There it is,” Din spoke to BD-1 as the two huddled behind a massive mossy log. Unfortunately, the outpost was an underground bunker; this was information Cara had been unable to provide him with. The bunker’s entrance was a single ten-foot, iron door in typical Empire fashion. In front of the door stood two patrol troopers armed with blaster pistols and blaster rifles slung across their backs. Din had no idea how many more troopers were inside or the size of the bunker itself. Essentially, he would have to go in blind.

While Din was scanning the surrounding area using his helmet’s visor, BD dropped from his shoulders and crawled onto the rotting log they had been using as cover. The small droid spat out three low beeps and gestured wildly with his foot to their left flank. Din crouched deeper as he spun on his heels to see what BD’s commotion was about. To Din’s annoyance, BD had spotted an AT-ST out on patrol and headed in their direction.

“Not good,” Din said to BD. “Let’s return to the Mantis.”

* * *

Inside the quiet solace of the Mantis Av had been busily working away in the ship’s kitchen, preparing enough nerf stew to feed half-a-dozen people. Av didn’t like being hungry, people didn’t like being hungry, and generally speaking, those recently rescued from captivity were rapacious when it came to food. Primarily, Av considered meal prep in this situation as intelligent damage control. But, in her cooking fury, she did not notice the heavy steps of Tin Man as he and BD entered the Mantis.

From Tin Man’s shoulder, BD chirped to gather Av’s attention. “What…?” she said, dropping her knife on the counter-top and spinning towards the ship’s open ramp. “Back so soon?!” she asked them, startled.

It was difficult for Din to ignore the savory, salty scent exuding from the ship’s kitchen. Truthfully, it was so overpowering that he could feel his stomach painfully rattling in protest of his denied hunger. 

At this point, enough time had passed that Av felt it was necessary to repeat herself, “What are you two doing? Where are the hostages?”

Snapping himself out of his starving trance, Din answered her, “It won’t be that easy.”

BD slid off Tin Man to scuttle up the galley stairs and jump onto the kitchen’s dining table. The little droid beeped at Av a few times and switched on the holoprojector built into his optical viewers. Before them was a detailed map of the outpost bunker and the two-kilometer area around it. Included in the droid’s chart was a projection of the AT-ST and its patrol route highlighted by a dotted, blue line. The line spread across the terrain surrounding the outpost, making an oval shape.

“Its patrol route!” Din exclaimed, trotting up the stairs into the galley. “How’d you manage to get this?”

Av smiled, amused by Tin Man’s excitement. “He figured it out by scanning for treads and patterns in the brush,” she explained.

“Amazing…” Din mumbled.

“Is there a problem? Can’t handle a chicken walker?” Av mocked.

“Unless you’re hiding heavy explosives, no,” he flatly replied. “I don’t have enough firepower to take it down.”

“I guess that beskar armor and spear don’t do you much good,” Av criticized.

“I need to lure the walker away from the bunker,” he replied.

“Go do that then…?” Av raised her brows.

“I need your help,” Tin Man asked the exact question Av was hoping he wouldn’t.

“I can’t— I don’t—,” Av frowned. “I don’t know how to fight. I can’t help you.”

BD buzzed in disagreement.

“You won’t have to fight,” Din continued. “If you can get the walker away from the bunker and—”

“Hold on!” Av interrupted him. “You can’t be serious? That thing gets one shot on me and I’m as good as dead.”

Again, BD let out a beep in objection.

“Why can’t you just do it by yourself?” she extended her objection.

“We won’t have a lot of time after it’s been destroyed,” said Din.

“Wha— What?” Av stammered. “Destroyed? You just said we couldn’t destroy it.”

“The ship’s forward-facing cannons can bring it down,” Din clarified.

“The Mantis?!” Av cried. “I can’t let that chicken near it— If it gets a shot on the ship it’ll blow it to pieces!”

“Don’t lure it directly into the clearing,” he went on, “Bring it through the forest and out in front of the ship.” Din pointed past the cockpit window and to the thick grouping of trees ahead of the Mantis. “By the time you’ve destroyed the walker, I should be clear from the bunker with the hostages.”

“Okay—” Av patted her hands against the air. “—And this is all assuming I don’t get blown to bits in the process?”

Frustrated that Tin Man could not understand him, BD gave Av another irritated whistle.

“Navigate the ferns to give you cover,” Din said. “That will make it difficult for the walker to lock on to you.”

“I— I can’t,” Av spoke remorsefully.

Disappointed, BD released a low whine.

Crossing his arms, Din sighed. “Doing this alone will risk the lives of the hostages.”

Av stretched her fingers between her tangled locks of hair, nestling her hands against her scalp. “This is a bad idea,” she said, rubbing her head. “Somebody is gonna get blown up.”

“Here,” Din spoke, unholstered his blaster and held it out to her.

“What’s this for?” She scowled at him. “I thought I was just going to lure the thing in front of the Mantis? What good will this do?”

“In case you run into trouble,” Din said, pushing the pistol closer to her.

Both Av and BD scoffed at the notion. “I don’t even know how to use a blaster,” Av claimed. “Besides, I’m left-handed. Look at this—” Av peeled the fingerless glove from her hand and showed Din her injuries. Her palm was still wrapped tightly with a torn-up bandage and her fingers were blackened from electric shock. Despite Av’s inability to read Tin Man’s expressions, she knew he was repulsed. “It’s not infected,” she assured him. “But it’s useless until further notice. And, I’m useless with my right.”

Fortunately for Din, Av nor BD could see the exasperated look on his face. She was lying, but why? A few moments ago he had briefly witnessed her holding a kitchen knife in her right hand.

“I can’t take it.” Av nudged the pistol away. “I’ll be fine without it.”

Assuming this meant Av was going to help Tin Man, BD blurted out a happy cheer.

As uncomfortable as her refusal made Din feel he returned the weapon to its holster. “Maintain constant radio contact,” he told her.

“Of course.” Av nodded and exhaled.

Upon returning to the bunker, Din, BD, and Av hid between a cluster of unruly ferns. Once again, little droid, BD, used his holoprojector to show Din and Av the area surrounding the structure and the chicken’s route. 

Din looked to Av, pointing a finger at the dotted oval on the map. “It’s furthest from the bunker here,” he said. “Wait for it there and signal me when it’s spotted you. I’ll make my way into the bunker then.”

“How exactly are you getting by that door?” Av wondered, denoting it on the projection.

He shrugged in response.

“I figured you for a _plan_ kind of guy,” Av ridiculed him.

“I’ll find a way,” Din admitted. “There’s always a way.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen this before,” she remarked. “You were gonna blast that panel and hope for the best, weren’t you? But, you might just jam the door. If you slice it, you can get in.”

“We’d need a droid with a scomp link—” Din broke off, peering down at BD. “—He can slice it?”

BD switched off the projection and pleasantly beeped in return.

“Explorer droids don’t have built-in scomp links,” Din noted.

“Huh, go figure?” Av grinned sarcastically at BD. “I wonder where you got it from?”

Sheepishly, BD whistled as he scratched at the ground.

“Take BD with you,” Av instructed Tin Man.

The droid did not wait for Tin Man’s approval; instead, BD quickly scampered up the Mandalorian’s back and made himself comfortable. As Av smiled at them, BD released a series of chirps that resulted in a playful remark aimed at her.

“As if trying not to get blown up by a walker isn’t hard enough,” she responded.

* * *

Av was standing alone beside one of the forest’s massive conifers when she saw the chicken shuffling along its expected path. “I see it,” she said to Din and BD through her communicator. She ducked to the ground, dug around the brush, and found a formidable rock to toss at the walker. Still in cover, Av hurled the rock at the side of the chicken’s cabin. The hefty pebble dinged off the walker, uselessly sinking to the ground. The chicken immediately rotated in Av’s direction and blasted the base of the tree she was using for cover. Av leaped sideways as wooden splinters and burning sparks cascaded in all directions. While tumbling to the ground she could feel a sharp sting in her right hip. “Ouch…” she muttered to herself, gazing at the large splinter jutting from her body.

“Av?” Tin Man’s voice chimed over the radio. “You alright?”

She clambered to her feet and began sprinting towards the Mantis. “I think I got its attention,” she said, panting. 

* * *

“Okay, BD,” Din spoke to the droid on his back, “I’ll handle the guards— You slice the door.” He pointed across the thick ferns to the bunker’s entrance twenty-meters ahead of them. The little droid beeped in response but Din could only assume it was a beep in agreement.

The Mandalorian crept along the canopy floor heading for the east side of the structure in order to flank the two patrol troopers. BD slipped away from Din’s shoulders and disappeared into the dense greenery. Again, Din could only assume the creature knew the plan and what it was doing. He shifted out of the brush and hugged his torso against the bunker’s eastern wall. He gradually sidled along the concrete wall until his eyes locked onto the tail end of one of the troopers. Carefully, Din withdrew his beskar spear, winding it up to ready a hefty blow. With every ounce of his strength, he smacked the trooper in the side of the head with his staff. Silently, the trooper crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. Nevertheless, the second guard caught sight of the falling body and was abruptly made aware of the Mandalorian’s presence. 

The trooper pointed his blaster forward and began firing at Din without warning. Din ducked behind the eastern wall for cover, sheathed his beskar spear, and briskly removed his pistol from his waist. The guard ceased fire but Din could hear his footsteps scraping against the dirt ground as he came closer. Leaning against the bunker wall, Din slid down into a crouching position and awaited the approaching trooper. The patrol trooper rapidly turned the corner, failing to notice that the Mandalorian had stooped to the ground. Din thrust out a foot, effectively tripping the trooper and causing him to stumble face-first to the ground. With the butt of his pistol, Din slapped the guard in the back of the head. The trooper released a weak grunt as he passed into unconsciousness.

In front of the bunker’s door, Din heard the heated chirps of BD. Din left the two bodies to join the droid and watched as the small creature clung itself to the panel on the large door’s right-hand side. BD-1 gripped the panel’s cover with a foot, ripped it off, and tossed it to the side. He whistled a few unintelligible words to Din before revealing his scomp link and hooking it into the naked circuit board. After a dozen seconds, green lights flickered on the board and the bunker’s door began opening. BD dropped from the panel, scampered to Tin Man, and took his position on the Mandalorian’s back.

The entrance of the bunker was a shadowy stairway that led downward past the pair’s view. Din clutched his pistol in both hands and cautiously descended the steps one-by-one. Once they arrived at the bottom of the stairs they were greeted by a dimly lit communication hub. In the center of the room was a huge black half-hexagonal desk with rows of lights and buttons endlessly blinking. Suspiciously, Din thought, no one was occupying the desk. Beyond the desk was a set of double doors that Din surmised led further into the structure’s depths. Din relaxed as he walked around the bulking desk, heading for its console controls. To the Mandalorian’s surprise, a man dressed in an Imperial officer’s uniform was curled on the ground beneath the console and tightly gripping a blaster pistol in his fist.

“Wait! — No, don’t!” the young, gaunt man squalled. “I— I saw you out there, Mandalorian. Please, I beg you! I don’t want to die!”

“Open the door,” Din demanded.

“I— I don’t— Well, I know—” the sweating man spluttered. “If— if I do, will you let me go?”

“Open the door,” Din harshly repeated.

“Yes— Yes— Yes! — Of course," the man stammered again. He reached his fingertips above his head and blindly groped at the console for a series of keys. Uncontrollably shaking, the man pressed a sequence of buttons and the door popped open. 

Din held his hand out to the man. “The blaster,” he said.

“Oh— oh, yes! Of course!” The man unfurled his hand and placed the gun in Din’s grip.

“Who else is down there?” Din sternly asked.

“Um, three— three— no! Four more,” he replied. “Four more guards. Three patrol troopers and a KX droid.”

“Disable the droid,” Din commanded.

“I can’t— I can’t!” The man raised his arms in defense. “There isn’t a way.”

BD-1 beeped at Din, but the man simply did not understand. Confused, he looked to the droid but returned his gaze to the cowering man. “Leave,” Din said with finality.

* * *

Although it was incredibly exhausting and difficult, Av had managed to lure the chicken in between Ersev’s thick ferns and trees and to the bow of the Stinger Mantis. During the entire chase, the walker had been shooting its blasters non-stop, annihilating everything in its wake. Luckily for Av, besides the painfully deep splinter sticking out from her hip, she remained undamaged from the gunner’s horrible aim. It was at this point where Av clumsily tripped over a hidden vine and bounced her pale face-off of a sturdy log. Instantaneously, the woman became completely disoriented. She drearily rolled onto her back to see the dull AT-ST blocking out the sun and towering above her. In her state of panic and bewilderment, she lifted her open palms out to the walker. Av twisted her hands at the air and the chicken’s feet flew from underneath it. The large mechanoid plummeted to the ground with a resounding thud. Fumbling around her poncho, Av reached into her pant’s pocket and withdrew the Mantis’s remote activator. The forward-facing cannons of the ship engaged and in a glamorous blast of light the chicken was destroyed.

* * *

As the thin, nervous man scrambled to his feet and made haste to the bunker’s exit, both Din and BD felt the rattling of an explosion.

“Av?” Din spoke through the comm. “Are you alright?” There was no response. “We better move it,” he said to BD.

The pair made their way past the set of doors behind the desk and descended another set of stairs. When they arrived at the bottom, Din stared along the wide metallic corridor sparingly illuminated with cold, white lights. A door on the far end of the hall sprung open and with it, three troopers entered the long hall. The three patrol troopers opened fire on the Mandalorian and his droid companion; however, Din managed to evade their fire by dipping behind a nearby bulkhead. As shots blazed around him, Din activated the set of whistling birds in his vambrace. The minuscule projectiles flew around the bulkhead, launched at the troopers, and exploded on impact. Inching his head out from cover, Din saw the three troopers lying motionlessly on the ground. 

Believing the coast was clear, BD scuttled down from the Mandalorian’s back, ran halfway across the hall, and howled at the first door to their left.

Din rushed along the corridor to meet the droid. “In there?” he questioned.

Unexpectedly, Av’s voice rang out from Tin Man’s radio, “Uh, hey there. I hate to rush you, but I just spotted a Sentinel coming in for a landing.”

After hearing Av, BD jumped on the door’s right panel and inserted his scomp link into it. Promptly, the door rushed open, revealing a terrifying KX unit. The security droid’s round eyes flickered into life, lighting its charcoal, dome-shaped head that had been scuffed and chipped from numerous battles and time. Din lifted his blaster pistol at the droid and shot it twice directly in its upper torso. The blasts unceremoniously ricocheted off of the droid’s chest, pinging into a nearby wall and leaving the robot completely unphased.

“Surrender immediately,” the monotone droid spoke. “Do not resist. Resistance will be met with aggression.”

Never one to surrender, Din took two long steps backward and fired once more at the droid. Again, the shots bounced off the android’s figure and it was left unaffected. The KX unit drove its lanky body forward and seized the Mandalorian by his helmet. A long and low whistle came from BD as he launched his tiny frame into the air and onto the KX droid’s circular head. As BD forced his scomp link into the machine’s skull, the KX unit unhanded Tin Man and started desperately whacking at the explorer droid. The KX droid was unable to fend off BD and seized up as it lost total control of its systems.

Issuing a cheerful buzz, BD gracefully fell from the KX unit. “What did you do to it?” Din asked, realizing he wouldn’t understand BD’s answer. BD buzzed again, and of course, Din had no idea what the droid said.

Now that the KX unit had been deemed out of commission, Din entered the dark room that BD had eagerly led him to. Din stepped inside and the bright, white lights built into the floor’s base flared into life. He turned to see the endearing BD droid latched onto another panel within the room. At the back of the room was a row of mostly unoccupied cells each no larger than fifty square feet and containing a single, slender bench. In the furthest cell on the right was the trio of missing persons that Cara had shown him earlier that day. 

“Mandalorian?” A Rodian female rose from their cell’s cramped bench and gaped through its chrome bars. “That KX unit had us trapped in here—”

“Quiet yourself,” spoke a young human male from inside the same cell. He warily stood up from the bench using the steel wall for support. “He’s a Mandalorian, he isn’t here on some sort of altruistic rescue mission.”

“We have to get out of here now,” Din said, approaching the prison. And, as he did so the cell door clicked and slid open thanks to BD’s work.

“Get out of here?” The human gave Din a contemptuous grin. “I know you just got here, so maybe you didn’t notice, but my leg is broken. I can’t go anywhere. Not only that— _she’s dying._ ” He gestured to the remaining prisoner, a human female, sitting on the bench and sweating profusely.

“Can you help him?” Din asked the Rodian and pointed to the human male.

“I’m uninjured,” she nodded. “Mateo, I can help you,” she spoke to the man.

“Fine, alright,” he relented. “But what about her?”

“I’ll carry her,” Din answered. Laboriously, the Mandalorian hefted the ill woman across his shoulders allowing him enough freedom to still hold his blaster.

* * *

When Av reached the bunker doors she was received by Tin Man, BD, and the three hostages. “Oh, good,” she said, winded. “I was about to take off without you.”

“The Sentinel?” Din asked.

“Landed, I don’t know— At some distance,” she guessed. “We need to get out of here[,] quick.”

“I know,” Din acknowledged.

BD dashed along the ground and speedily climbed onto Av’s back. He beeped a few times as the group began moving as fast as they could.

“Is that so?” Av laughed in reply. “And you didn’t bring him with you?”

Appalled, the droid whined at her.

“I was just kidding,” she said.

The human male, stupefied by his bizarre rescuers, glowered at Av. “Who are you guys?” he asked, rhetorically.

After several minutes of exhausting struggling through the planet’s vegetation, the group arrived at the starboard of the Mantis. Yet, for all of their rushing, they were unable to outmaneuver the platoon of twenty storm troopers who awaited them. Ten troopers were lined along the stern of the Mantis, creating a semi-circle firing squad. The remaining ten heavily armed troopers were bunched together in front of the ship’s main ramp. Finally, at the head of the group was the same frail, gaunt man Din had allowed to get away.


	5. Masters and Magicians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeesh-- Sorry to any of ya'll who've been waiting too long for this. So, I do hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait. I'm in the process of doing some other writing material that is not fanfiction, so I will likely only be updating this story once or twice a month. However, I love this story so far and don't plan on stopping until it's done! I promise. Also, shout-out to my proofreader who always catches my typos and excessive comma problem.

“Those are the prisoners!” spoke the young imperial officer. Not that it made any difference, but Din felt a pang of regret from letting the soldier escape.

Av stepped in front of Tin Man, blocking him with an arm. “Uh— what prisoners?” she said to the officer. “These aren’t the prisoners you’re looking for,” she added, waving her hand in a peculiar circular motion.

“Huh...?” The officer rubbed his chin. “I don’t think these are the prisoners we’re looking for,” he said, turning to the group of stormtroopers accompanying him.

A stormtrooper next to him nodded. “Those are definitely not the prisoners,” he concurred, looking to his fellow soldiers. A few of them murmured, but they all agreed by either giving a short nod or stating a quiet yes.

“But wait!” the gaunt officer boomed. “Who are you then? And what are you doing here?”

“Uh, well nothing, of course,” Av nervously chuckled. “We’re going to get on our ship and we’re going to leave.” Again, Av made the same unusual gesture with her palm and fingers.

Once more the officer turned to the trooper on his right. “They’re going to get on their ship and they’re going to leave,” he parroted Av.

For the second time the trooper nodded in agreement. “They’re going to get on their ship and they’re going to leave,” he repeated the officer’s words to the squad. All of the troopers bowed their heads or muttered as an indication of their acknowledgment.

“Alright then!” the officer bellowed as he tugged at the hem of his coat. “Be on your way then.”

Din watched the group of troopers blocking the Mantis’s boarding ramp part on command.

Wide-eyed, the male prisoner guffawed at them, “Unbelievable!”

Flushed, Av pivoted her face to the Mandalorian. “Uh— Uh— We should go,” her words tripped. “You know— Uh, before they change their minds.”

Still holding the ill woman on top of his shoulders, Din climbed the ramp into the Mantis. Once the six of them were on board BD swiftly made his way to the ship’s controls. The small droid engaged the Mantis’s departing sequence at a lightning pace he’d hardly believed he was capable of. Predictably, upon ascension, the Mantis’s hull scraped against Ersev’s foreboding conifers causing the entire crew to recoil and moan.

“Seriously, BD?” Av complained as she fumbled into the cockpit. “Take it easy for a bit. These people are hurt.” The droid retorted with a concerned chirp. “I think I’m okay.” Av lifted her hands and stretched her fingers in search of something beyond the wounds that were already present. “I— I don’t know. I feel fine, but I— I shouldn’t have done it.” BD shouted a series of supportive beeps and buzzes. “I may be okay, but how am I going to explain—” Av paused, hearing Tin Man’s heavy footfalls as he approached.

“Do you have any medical supplies?” he asked.

“Right, of course.” Her head whipped around the cockpit as she anxiously scratched at her scalp. “Uh— What do they need?”

“You’re bleeding.” Din pointed at the huge splinter jutting from her hip.

“Um, right.” She ceased her anxious scratching to stare down at it. “It looks worse than it is. But uh, there are some supplies in the common area. Inside the table.”

With nothing left to say to the mess of a woman, the Mandalorian left the cockpit and returned to the common area where their rescued prisoners awaited.

“He’s going to want an explanation,” Av whispered to BD. He chirped, agreeing.

On the couch of the common area, the Rodian female placed a soft hand on the forehead of her unconscious friend. “Do you have anything for a fever?” she asked the Mandalorian. “I think she could use something to eat.”

Sitting beside his companions, Mateo raised his nose to the air and gave a hard sniff. “Hey, chrome head,” he called out to the Mandalorian, “What’s up with the smell in here? I’m dying— it’s driving my stomach nuts.”

“He is right,” the Rodian second. “It smells amazing in here and I can’t remember the last time I had a good meal… Or any meal.”

“Are you gonna feed us or what!?” Mateo demanded.

Flustered, Din trotted from the common area and rejoined Av in the cockpit. When he arrived she was whispering to BD from the co-pilot’s chair. “Did you find it?” she asked, swiveling her head to meet him.

Din noticed that her thick splinter was now lying in a pile of blood in the middle of the cockpit’s floor. “I— should— I…” She caught him eyeing it proverbially. “I’ll deal with that.”

He watched her as she grunted with exertion, lifting herself from the co-pilot’s seat. “Are you okay?” He instinctively opened his arms to support her.

“Just a bit rusty— Just, um—” she stammered, batting him away, “—Just tired, is all. I’ll be fine.”

Back in the common area, Mateo let out a boisterous yell, “Hello!? We’re dying over here!”

The Mandalorian lifted an open palm and placed it on his helmet’s faceplate, “They want your food,” he sighed.

“Guess they’re lucky I was expecting company,” she said with a smile, limping past Tin Man and into the galley’s kitchen.

* * *

_Sitting crossed-legged and perfectly still, Av concentrated on the murky, green waters of Burra Burra Swamp. In between the water’s layers of darkness was an impenetrable barrier of thick roots and unruly vines. It was difficult to believe that any aquatic life could survive in it, let alone something you’d want to eat._

_“This is no way to fish.” Av frowned, slapping the water’s slimy surface, breaking its distorted reflection of the red sky and swirling grey clouds._

_“It’s really not that hard!” Cal, who was peacefully meditating on the damp, moss-covered shore next to her, laughed. “They’re in there. You just need to be patient. And remember, if you don’t get any, Greez is going to be really angry.”_

_“How am I supposed to do it?” she scoffed at him._

_“Like the same way you use the Force. Just like picking up the rock,” as he said this, he wiggled his fingers in the air motioning at nothing in particular._

_Av glared at his hands. “This is nothing like picking up the rock.”_

_“I’ve never seen someone get so angry at a rock!” Cal laughed again. “I was worried you were going to split the planet in half!”_

_“This isn’t the same!” she spoke, sounding resentful. “There’s more here. There’s all of the gross plants and roots, and the water looks disgusting, and everything smells disgusting, and I can’t see anything through this, and—.”_

_“—It’s the same as the rock,” he reminded her. “All you need to do is relax and breathe.”_

_“That’s exactly the problem!” Av huffed, splashing the water again and bolting upright. “As— as soon as I try, I just… I can’t stop it. I can’t. It’s always the same. It’s either rage or nothing. I don’t know any other way.”_

_“But you did pick up the rock, remember? You picked it up and nobody got hurt— After you calmed down, that is.” Cal opened his emerald eyes and met her glower. “Av, I know how hard it can be for you. But, I promise you, it will get better. And, look at how far you’ve come already. You can’t give up now.”_

_Relenting to her friend’s modest wisdom, Av suspired and plopped herself back onto the wet ground. “I can’t do this, Cal— it’s just not possible.”_

_“It’s just like the rock,” he repeated as he slowly closed his eyes and exhaled. “Relax and breathe. Relax and breathe. And remember, you’re not alone. We’re always here for you. And I’m always here with you.”_

* * *

As Marshal Cara Dune exited her office she carried two cups of tea; one for herself and the other for the speechless Mandalorian. “Tea?” she asked, holding out the tin mug as she bent herself to join him on the concrete stoop.

Keeping his gaze locked on the cloudy, red, twilit horizon, Din took the mug from her hand.

Cara inhaled the wafting steam from her drink and followed it with a long sip. “You haven’t said much,” her voice was muffled by the tin cup. “The Rodian, Gian, and the human, Mateo…” She rested the mug to her lap and shook her head. “They both seem to think that something— _Something_ happened on Ersev. I was going to go talk to Av about it but figured I’d get your side of the story first.”

No longer interested in the tea, Din placed the mug onto the ground. “Nothing happened,” he flatly replied.

“Obviously not.” Cara’s forehead wrinkled. “According to Mateo and Gian, by some miracle, a platoon of Imperial Stormtroopers let the six of you leave— no questions asked. That doesn’t really make a lot of sense, does it?” Din had no response for her. “Maybe when the Republic gets there in a few days we’ll have an answer.” She shrugged, taking another sip from her drink. “Who knows, maybe they just took pity on you. Or, maybe Av has some magical charisma about her that I can’t see.” Upon mentioning the woman’s name, Mando’s head perked up. “Mateo said that she politely told them that you guys were leaving,” Cara said with a suspicious grin. “That’s really it?”

“That’s it,” he answered.

“I guess you guys got lucky then, huh?” Cara leaned forward, craning her head to get a better view of the Mandalorian’s reflective face. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing. Have you?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Din relented. Still, when he recalled the moment, the sight of Av rotating her fingers as she spoke in that smooth tone stuck with him.

“Alright, well I say it doesn’t really matter anyway,” Cara said dismissively. “You guys got them out of there. It’s a good thing she came in handy. Or, well, at least the people you three rescued seem impressed.”

“Her explorer droid—” Din started.

“What about the droid? Did something happen to him?”

On second thought, he began wondering if he had said too much already. “Nothing,” he answered, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” Cara ignored him and proceeded talking, “Teva’s going to stop by on his way back from Ersev.” Din looked at her, waiting for more information. “I just thought I’d let you know, since you know—” she broke off with a long inhale. “—You two don’t seem to get along and all. And he’ll probably want to hear all about your rescue mission first hand. But who knows…? Maybe he’ll give you an award or something. Or a nice pat on the back.”

Abruptly, Din rose from the stoop. “It’s been a long day,” he stated. “I’m going to get some rest.”

“Take care,” Cara mumbled underneath her breath as he walked into the burning red sunset.

* * *

Of all the places Bo-Katan imagined herself ending up, Horuz was not one of them. Much like the rest of the Outer Rim, Horuz was ripe with criminal syndicates and Imperial remnants that refused to die. It seemed that no matter how hard you kicked the Empire, so long as one loyal maniac remained, they would always get back up again. Although Bo-Katan had never pictured herself in such a cesspool of villainy, the Mandalorian in the beskar armor left her little choice.

The thing about Mandalorians, and Bo-Katan would certainly know, they’re among the toughest warriors in the galaxy. One Mandalorian is worth her weight in a dozen well-trained troopers. You could throw countless guns-for-hire at any Mandalorian and the results would be all the same; a few thousand less credits and a target painted on your back. Truth is, as much as it burned Bo-Katan to confess, she needed the beskar Mandalorian out of the picture and honor prevented her from dealing with him directly. She needed to find someone who would willingly take on a Mandalorian and win.

For as long as she could remember there existed a group of fierce, reckless commandos known as the Haxion Brood. Not only did they dominate the arena of gambling and smuggling in the Outer Rim, but they also employed a handful of deadly soldiers. These bounty hunters were enhanced with cybernetic augmentations and regularly escorted by droids modified to be their killer companions. As history went, Mandalorians steered clear from the Brood and vice versa. Bo-Katan had never felt compelled to break that long-standing tradition until now.

Sixteen hours of the day Horuz was shrouded by the night and illuminated by flickering orange lights that dotted each settlement. As with most planets, Horuz had a central settlement where trade, bartering, lying, cheating, stealing, and anything else you can think of legal or not, took place. Now, Bo-Katan waited inside the aptly named cantina called The Den; a hive within the hive. Each booth in the cantina was tucked into a dark corner solely lit with a dying amber bulb. Unlike most cantinas in the Rim, The Den was no place for gallivanting, philandering, or all-around rough-housing; the thick darkness of the bar’s ambiance was burdened by its silence. Long, wicked glances were exchanged between its few patrons, and those who came to meet with others did so in hushed tones. Succinctly put, the place made Bo-Katan intensely uncomfortable.

The presence of an unidentifiable being, cloaked in a floor-length robe of a beige hue, startled Bo-Katan from her haze. “Armor or no armor, I recognize you _, Mandalorian,”_ the woman spoke in a silvery voice, commenting on Bo-Katan’s worn leather ensemble. “I must say, the amount of trouble you’ve gone to arrange such a meeting is mighty impressive.” Bo-Katan could see the woman’s cold, red eyes peeking through her laced veil as she sat across from her. “Well, _Mandalorian,_ what can I do for you?”

“There is a Mandalorian on Nevarro—”

“—Mandalorian?” the woman cawed. “And why should I care about where another Mandalorian is?”

Bo-Katan gritted her teeth. “Are you going to listen to me or not?”

“You know we much prefer to not get involved in the affairs of the Mandalorians. So, what’s changed now?”

“The time has come— I can wait no longer.” Bo-Katan bowed her head, fixating on a hairline crack in the table’s dull surface. “He has the Darksaber.”

The woman’s veil shifted with her smile. “A long sought after Mandalorian treasure? But, I’m not interested, so why should I care?”

“I need that saber,” Bo-Katan grunted.

“That may be all well and good and fascinating, but I don’t see how that’s relevant to me.” The woman’s glowing eyes narrowed on the Mandalorian. “Challenge him to your fight and get it over with.”

“If it was that simple, I would not be here asking you for help!” Bo-Katan growled, smacking a fist on the unmovable table.

“You be quiet!” the woman hissed, her head swiveling to the reptilian barkeep glaring at them. “This is never the place to cause a scene. So, what is it? Why can’t you fight this Mandalorian?”

Bo-Katan’s hand slid from the table and dropped into her lap. “He refuses. He has only offered his surrender.”

“But it is not your way?” the woman’s words echoed Bo-Katan’s unspoken thoughts. “The Darksaber is only to be won in battle. But who cares? Kill the man when no one else is around and be done with it.”

“I will not— I—”

“—You cannot?” the woman surmised. “But if someone else did it for you, no honor would be lost on your part? That sounds like a morally corrupt loophole if I’ve ever heard of one.” The bulb dangling above their table blinked in and out of life and the two women watched as it admitted defeat. “How fitting.” The woman’s phosphorescent eyes bored at Bo-Katan. “And here I believed you came to see me for something else entirely.” 

Provoked by his sense of duty, the hefty Trandoshan barkeep waddled to their table and began replacing the bulb. Bo-Katan felt the heat of awkwardness rise to her cheeks as she waited for the barkeep to finish. The dimmed bulb hummed to life causing the stranger’s piercing eyes to fade. 

“What do you mean?” Bo-Katan asked as the man left.

The woman reclined in her seat, folding her arms. “How peculiar,” she said. “You desire to lead your people and yet you seem to know very little about the events that transpired a year ago. I lost one of my best soldiers that day,” the woman continued. “On Dathomir.”

The Mandalorian leaned forward, shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”

“A group of traditionalists, or so they called themselves, were searching for an old legend—” the woman paused for a brief smile, “—A Sith, I believe. The last one alive. They were convinced that if they could kill her, peace and balance would be restored to the galaxy. A load of nonsense, but they believed she was to be found on Dathomir and they needed the assistance of someone familiar with the planet. It so happens I had a commando who had been there many years ago and would reluctantly return for the right price.”

“Traditionalists…?” Bo-Katan mumbled.

“Yes, ex-Death Watch I believe,” the woman replied. “Not that I know much about you Mandalorians and your overtly violent and complicated history. My commando and the five Mandalorians he went with were never heard from again. I can only assume they found what they were looking for and they paid the price.” 

“Dathomir is a dangerous place,” Bo-Katan scoffed. “They could have easily been killed by a rancor.”

The woman’s forehead creased in disbelief. “I find that difficult to imagine,” she dismissed. “Do you honestly think that five Mandalorians could be defeated so easily?”

“Name whatever else you can think of on Dathomir, but know it is a dangerous place.”

“I am not so ignorant, obviously.” The woman continued to frown. “I would never go there myself— Sith or not. And I lost a good and trusted friend to that vile planet.”

It wasn’t in the nature of the Haxion Brood to be distraught over the loss of one life, or so Bo-Katan had always thought. “Why are you telling me this?” she wondered. “I’m not paying you for this information.”

Barely visible through the dark lace, a wicked grin crept across the woman’s mouth. “No, but you planned on paying me to take care of your Mandalorian friend, were you not? And I’m not looking for credits in exchange.”

“Why not send your own people to Dathomir?”

“As I said, I would never go there myself,” the woman fiercely reminded her. “And, I have no intentions of sending anyone else there— not that it would be my choice to. I thought you’d jump at the chance considering, whoever it was, murdered _your_ people.”

“Why do you care so much about those Mandalorians?”

The woman bent forward, shifting her face closer to Bo-Katan’s. “Have you been listening to me?” she whispered abrasively. “I don’t care about your Mandalorians, but I lost someone important to me on that planet. All I want is to see his body again— rotting corpse or not. If anything, I’m doing you two favors. You should be grateful.”

There was a sour scent to the woman’s hot breath that caused Bo-Katan to recoil. “And what if the same thing that killed those Mandalorians and your friend is still there?” she asked, shifting upright.

“Then I suggest you run in the opposite direction.”


End file.
